


Kiss The Other Cheek

by China_Rose



Series: Sealed With A Kiss [2]
Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/China_Rose/pseuds/China_Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when you thought it was safe to get into the water…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss The Other Cheek

[](http://photobucket.com)  
Banner by China Rose

 **Title:** _Kiss the Other Cheek_  
 **Series:** _Sealed With A Kiss_  
 **Pairing:** Galahad/?

 **Comments and Reviews:** Always welcome  
 **Beta:** Thoks thanks for always doing my edits at the drop of a hat.  
 **A/N:** This story follows _A Kiss in the Night_ and is part of the _Sealed With A Kiss_ series.  
 **Disclaimer:** No money is made from this story. The characters are not mine they belong to the pages of history, myth and legend and more recently _Hollywood!_ So please pass this creation off as the wild imagination of one who adores the _King Arthur_ movie verse characters.

************************************************** 

Some missions were short and uneventful and others challenged their strength and determination. This mission had been a long drawn out affair and to a man they were pleased to have returned in one piece. The weather had been foul, raining almost constantly and the Woads had been determined to wreak havoc until they were either subdued or killed by the pursuing knights. 

Arthur was more than aware of how taxing this last mission had been and wisely advised his men that they were not expected to be on duty for the next two days. So here they were after two weeks on the road finally entering the gates of the fort and all Galahad could think about was getting clean and dry, having a hot meal and a long undisturbed sleep.

He quickly stabled his mount before retrieving clean clothes and his bath tools and headed to the bathhouse. It was already dark by then and the bathhouse was empty save for the knights. The atmosphere was one of hushed tones as the men slowly cleaned themselves before heading to their quarters. It was soothing to just sit there and soak up the tranquility of the heated rooms especially after the frenetic activity of the past two weeks. Before long the warm environment and peaceful surroundings lulled the young knight to sleep as he sat stark naked on the marble bench too weary to even scrape away the reminders of the long, wet mission.

He half awoke to a firm hand shaking his shoulder and a voice calling his name.

“Galahad! Galahad! Wake up, clean up and go to bed.”

“G’wain...” he mumbled more asleep than awake. 

“Open your eyes pup.”

Galahad weakly tried to shrug off the hand that shook him. “ ’m awake,” he muttered but he never moved.

The thing was Galahad was far from awake. He was exhausted and sore and he just wanted to shut his eyes for a few moments. He vaguely wondered why whoever it was didn’t just leave him alone because all he wanted to do was sleep. 

So he never woke when gentle hands quickly cleaned his mud covered limbs. He didn’t stir as someone sluiced warm water over his skin and he merely moaned as they treated the shallow cut which ran from his right buttock down the back of his thigh ending behind his knee. It had been caused by a Woad knife in a skirmish earlier that day. It wasn’t a serious wound but its location was inconvenient.

He half protested as he was jostled into a kilt and shirt but the lure of a strong arm to lean against and a shoulder to lay his head on was all that mattered as he was guided to another room and eased onto the bed.

“I’m good,” he murmured. “Sleep need to sleep…” and before he could utter another word he drifted back to a contented slumber. It was the sleep of the dead and the severely exhausted and right now it would have been difficult to determine which category Galahad fitted into.

He slept soundly but some time later he roused slightly to find that he was sleeping on his stomach in one of the small rooms in the bathhouse but he had absolutely no recollection of how he got there. However, any questions he had were pushed aside as a pair of phantom hands soothed him back to sleep. 

He liked this dream especially since the hands softly swept up and down his legs in long fluid motions relaxing aching muscles. Never once did they touch his wound and yet they caressed him from his ankles to his arse.

It was a dream world of pleasure, and in his dream he wiggled slightly as the ministrations of gentle fingers caused his cock to swell beneath him. He opened his legs wider to give the hands better access, and he wasn’t disappointed as the disembodied hands began to knead his backside tenderly.

“Mmmmm!” he moaned. “Don’t stop.” As the rhythmic touches both soothed and aroused the fatigued knight.

Soon the strong capable hands pulled his cheeks apart as clever thumbs took turns massaging places he had never have thought about stimulating in his life. 

“Yes, yes,” he murmured as he pushed back slightly trying to make the touch harder. 

Galahad needed more. He needed to come and somehow his dream lover understood that because once more he was spread wide but this time a very talented tongue began to tease his puckered entrance. The dream was so real he that he could feel the bristle of the man’s beard and it felt unbelievable. Yes this was a good dream and Galahad writhed in passion as it began to push inside him and he cried out in pleasure as the ever questing tongue pushed in and out of his virgin hole. 

Wave after wave of sensations cascaded over him and suddenly he was wide awake and very aware that his dream was in fact a reality. He tried to rise but the hands pinned him to the bed while the tongue continued to arouse to him beyond anything he had ever experienced before. In the end he was too far gone to do anything other than accept it and go with it. He felt the familiar heat pool in his belly and he knew that his release was imminent. However, the intensity of it when it happened made him scream in ecstasy, which echoed throughout the empty bathhouse. He came hard and fast and the last thing he remembered before the blackness claimed him again was a soft kiss on his arse cheek and a gentle hand caressing the damp curls on his head.

He awoke hours later feeling refreshed and satiated. He rolled on to his side rubbed his sleep filled eyes and looked around him.

“Why am I here?” he asked no-one in particular. He recognized the chamber as one of the many small rooms that were in the bathhouse. His dirty clothes and boots were neatly piled on a bench on the opposite wall with his bathing instruments. Someone had taken the time to relocate not only him but also his things which was very considerate of them and yet strange at the same time. They could have simply woken him, shoved the stuff in his arms and pushed him back to his quarters. 

His attire felt odd too and he looked down at his shirt now stiff from come and for the first time he was aware that his belly itched from the dried seed on his belly. 

He smiled happily, “Love dreams like that,” he muttered, a happy smile gracing his face but the smile faded as he the memories of what had happened the night before hit him full force. He leapt from the bed in shock and stood in the middle of the room looking around it as if he half expected to find his seducer still lurking in a corner.

“It wasn’t a dream; it wasn’t a dream,” he kept saying out loud as he tried to come to terms with had happened.

It was bad enough that he had been kissed a few weeks ago by an unknown assailant who had left him hard with need but now his…his what? This man was hardly a lover. Had he returned to finish the job that he started weeks ago?

Galahad flopped down on to the bed in despair. Once more he was accosted in the night by a stranger but he could hardly complain to the authorities because his credibility as a big, brave Sarmatian knight would be through. Yet just as before he also found himself overwhelmed by feelings he had never felt before. Just like the kisses he had shared with a stranger in the dark had opened his eyes to the fact that he was limiting his experiences by just bedding women, last night proved that he enjoyed being held down and set free at the same time.

Still Galahad wasn’t sure if all men would make him feel so liberated or just this man. He really couldn’t imagine throwing himself at some nameless legionnaire just because he wanted to come and go in the same breath. In the end Galahad reasoned he simply didn’t have sufficient experience to make a valid assessment on whether he liked men in general to pursue further sexual encounters with them. So unlike when he was kissed in the alley and he raced to his room and bolted the door, this time the door would stay unlocked and while he had no intention of doing it again, he had to admit whoever it was that had made his head spin and his heart race was more than welcome to lie with him again as long as he was awake.

In the end he merely chalked it up to one of those things and decided to leave well enough alone and maybe his mystery man had got what he was after as well. Satisfied that he had sorted out his feelings he quickly bathed again to wash away the evidence of his wanton night in the bathhouse and hurried back to his room to find clean clothes before heading to the tavern for a hearty meal. 

It was only after he sat down with the other knights in the tavern that he began to rethink his decision to not find out who was doing this to him. He didn’t talk to the other knights, namely because as he was too busy shoveling food into his mouth but he was listening to their conversation and there seemed nothing of consequence to him in what they were saying. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was one of them that had accosted him…twice no less.

He looked at the men around him and began to make a mental checklist of who he thought the possible attacker was. The person was tall. However, it was hard to say exactly how tall they were from that night in the alley since he was pushed against a wall but he was sure his assailant had to have been at least as tall as him if not taller. So that excluded Bors, he was shorter, not by much but Galahad was reasonably sure it wasn’t Bors because he had Vanora and would have been with her and the children. That left four knights. 

Next he remembered that the man that attacked him had a beard. Dagonet was clean shaven, so it wasn’t him even though he was taller than the young knight. So Galahad now assessed his shrinking list of suspects and all of them had a beard and were taller than him or as tall as him. There were: Gawain, Lancelot and Tristan. He briefly considered that maybe it was someone else altogether who had done these things to him but it seemed unlikely somehow. He put it down to a gut feeling that it was one of these three men and he intended to find out whom.

He was fairly sure it wasn’t Lancelot despite the fact that the man had teased him about kissing his lips and his arse. Galahad knew it was just to get a reaction and he had to admit it usually worked. He didn’t think it was Tristan but then again the furtive attacks were very much what Tristan was capable of being a scout and all. That left Gawain, his closest friend. He vaguely recalled a voice urging him to wake up and it had sounded like Gawain but Gawain wouldn’t have left him. Then again maybe Gawain hadn’t, maybe it was Gawain after all but the question was why? Why did he do it?

As Galahad pondered over the facts as he knew them, he went to get some more food unaware that he hadn’t uttered a single word to the knights since he’d entered the tavern and sat at the table. It was on his return with round two of his meal that he noticed that in turn they were now staring at him in surprise.

“What?” he asked confused at suddenly being the center of attention.

“You’ve worked up an appetite,” Gawain commented.

“Worked up how exactly?” He asked his friend.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” replied Gawain happily.

“Growing again I think,” laughed Tristan. “Eat up boy you’ll need your strength.”

“Why? W…what is going to happen?” He asked, unsure what was meant by the comment. 

The knights stared in utter confusion at Galahad’s strange behavior.

“Whaaa?” he asked through a mouthful of stew as they continued to look at him.

“Hungry?” Asked Dagonet.

“Sleep alright?” Bors questioned.

“Bad dream?” Tristan enquired.

“Anything on your mind?” probed Gawain tentatively.

“Something you want to share with us?” Lancelot asked.

Galahad looked from one to other as if he was re-living the conversation from weeks ago, the morning after the kiss and just like then, he could feel the blush rising in his cheeks.

“You’re a little flushed. You sleep in the bathhouse last night surrounded by all that moist heat?” asked Lancelot.

Galahad spewed stew all over the table.

Eyebrows were raised as the group stared in amazement at the young knight.

“Bastards,” Galahad spat. “You’re always having fun at my expense.”

So maybe last night was a big thing to him after all and maybe he wasn’t over the shock of what happened as much as he thought he was.

“You slept in the bathhouse?” asked a surprised Bors. “Dagonet you remember the time you slept in the bathhouse? Don’t think much sleeping was done eh?”

Dagonet rolled his eyes at his friend but laughed nonetheless. “I’ll leave you to your meal Galahad,” said Dagonet slapping the man on the back. “Bors I’m heading to stables, you coming?”

Bors waved his goodbyes and followed Dagonet out of the tavern.

“I’m coming too,” Tristan called after the other two knights and turning to Galahad he added with a wink, “No more sleeping in the bathhouse, it’s not safe.” 

Galahad started to rise, “what do you mean it’s not safe?”

“Nothing. Why?” Tristan stopped where he was and eyed the young man as if trying to work out what was wrong with him. “Something happen to you?” He finally asked.

“Like you don’t know,” snapped the strained man.

Tristan looked to Gawain for help but Gawain just shrugged, he had no idea what was going on in Galahad’s head today.

“Galahad what is the matter?” Gawain stood and tried to put a hand on Galahad’s shoulder to calm him.

“Don’t touch me,” snarled Galahad. 

Gawain pulled his hand back as if burnt. “Galahad…”

“Ask next time. Just ask?”

“Ask what?” Gawain was slowly losing patience with his friend. “I don’t know what’s got into your head pup but you better calm down before I knock you down. I suggest you get yourself back to bed and sleep off whatever ails you and maybe later you will be in a better mood.” 

With that Gawain stormed out of the tavern followed by an equally mystified Tristan who had watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and concern. From Tristan’s perspective if Galahad wasn’t in the mood to share his thoughts then he wouldn’t push the man. Besides he had other ways of making Galahad talk if he needed to.

Galahad watched them leave and sat down heavily. He was so angry that he had let his feelings get the better of him but he had to admit that the whole bathhouse thing had rattled him more than he had thought. He was so conflicted right now. He wanted more and yet he was afraid to pursue it. He wanted to confront his attacker but it made him hard thinking about this stranger who liked to sneak up on him and have their way with him. He was angry that he was left powerless during these encounters and yet he liked giving up control. Right now he didn’t know what to think or who to believe and he was frustrated and fed up and he took it out on his friends.

He noticed Lancelot looking at him, “What you’re not leaving too?” He asked the First Knight dejectedly.

“I am but…”

“But?” Asked Galahad, not sure he if wanted to know what the man had to say.

“Well I was wondering…”

“Oh, just spit it out Lancelot,” grumbled Galahad.

The First Knight bent down, ruffled Galahad’s curls and whispered in his ear. “I was wondering if you enjoyed your bath pup.” 

Galahad’s eyes grew large. _No! It can’t be him…can it?_ he thought as he watched the first knight wander out of the tavern. He mulled it over for a few minutes and then decided it was another of Lancelot’s jokes. Always teasing, always getting under his skin. 

“Hate him, hate them all…bastards and I especially hate the man who keeps doing this to me,” he whined quietly.

Still regardless of his inner turmoil, Lancelot’s words had hit their mark and now Galahad was left feeling embarrassed and needy. He leaned back in his chair and was once again assailed by memories of phantom fingers and a very talented tongue. The thoughts made his breath ragged and his body tremble as pent up desire made him want to do it all over again.

 

The End


End file.
